


Clever as the devil (but twice as pretty)

by writingramblr



Category: Bad Times at the El Royale (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Bisexual Crisis, Come Marking, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Bottoming, I Don't Even Know, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, Kinda, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Rough Sex, Unsafe Sex, but he's just being vague, seedy motel rooms and frantic hookups: the perils of being a closeted gay in the 60s, some dirty talk bordering on humiliation, sometimes you gotta write what you wanna see bc hollywood is full of cowards, threatened outing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 17:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16371755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: Dwight Broadbeck has been trying very hard toforgetthe past, until it walks back into his life with a vengeance.





	Clever as the devil (but twice as pretty)

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is... i dont know. i havent seen the movie [yet] but i had this wild idea while drifting off for my nap. so here it is.  
> entirely AU, idk if jon hamm's character even has a backstory like this, but who knows we'll see.  
> chris hemsworth is just delicious and wicked and jon hamm is gorgeous in need of a good dicking [also has a guud dick]  
> anyway im lazy and avoiding kinktober as well as 2 commissions so pls yell at me in the comments.
> 
> sidenote:  
> i stuck with 'dwight' unknowing which name he goes by for the majority of the film bc it sounds better with 'billy' rather than 'laramie'

_At first I told him we couldn’t be together more than an affair, a tryst._ _  
_ _Then my wife died under mysterious circumstances. I think she was poisoned. Everyone said I was crazy._

 _‘It was her heart.’ people would say, or worse, there were even whispers that_ I _killed her. I loved my wife._

 _I may not have been faithful the entire time we were married, but god help me, I loved her._ _  
_ _I didn’t see_ **him** _again for four long years._

 _Not until the wounded dove came knocking, with perfectly maroon lipstick emphasizing a full mouth, the click of a lighter, and a black eye hidden beneath sunshades._ _  
_ _That was_ **_his_ ** _work._

* * *

Control shifts with the raising of a foot.

Dwight is learning this very quickly, even as he loses his mind from pleasure. First he is kissed until his lips are numb, then he gets shoved against the wall, hips grinding into his own, the other man letting Dwight know he wasn’t the only one mindless with need. A desperate noise leaves him, and Billy’s hand cups between his legs, groping his cock.

“Big boy aren’t you? You want me to suck you off?”

Dwight can only groan out a _yes, oh god please,_ before he’s thrown onto the bed, dress pants undone sloppily, belt thrown aside, zipper tugged down, cock freed from beneath far too many layers.

The wet cavern of Billy’s mouth is hot, burningly sweet and perfect on his most sensitive skin, even as his legs are moved, his thighs pushed wider open, then one is lifted up by a strong arm, guided to rest over the blond’s shoulder.

Dwight can feel his sock clad ankle rubbing against Billy’s bare back, and then his other leg is urged up to the opposite shoulder. His cock vanishes almost entirely into the blond’s throat, and he finds himself unable to protest, despite feeling very, very exposed, and at a loss.

Two strong hands pin down his hips, so that when he comes, squirming on the bed, arching his back and thrusting blindly up, there’s really nowhere for Dwight to go, except for him to be given the bliss of his orgasm. His cock pulses and spurts seemingly endlessly into the back of Billy’s throat, which he constricts by swallowing pointedly, while humming around Dwight’s length.

“Oh god… oh yeah, christ you’re good at this.” Billy pulls off and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, smirking at him from what should be a relatively vulnerable position between Dwight’s legs.

Except he’s very obviously driving things, by the way he uses both hands on Dwight, urging his pants the rest of the way down his hips and thighs, then backing up to drag them off entirely. He tosses them carelessly aside, ignoring the wince on Dwight’s face at the thought of all those wrinkles Emily will have to iron out tomorrow.

“First of all, I’m not God, second of all, turn over. We’re not done.” Billy sounds very assertive still, even with lips swollen from cock sucking. Dwight hadn’t been planning to leave Billy hanging, not when his own arousal is so pointedly visible, and besides, he’d been hyping himself up to suck a dick of his own, yet this tells him that’s not what’s going to be happening. Billy is just a hippie, a more friendly to the outdoors type, a free spirit.

He’s acting more like he thinks he most certainly _is_ god, but Dwight isn’t going to argue, especially if he may get another orgasm out of this field trip.

They’re in a seedy motel, on the edge of town, and Emily thinks they’re just golfing, shooting the shit, male bonding time.

“Don’t worry Dwight, I brought the vaseline. I know you’re a virgin.” _Oh,_ so it’s like that is it…?

There’s been a few… rogue hand jobs here and kisses there from other men, before he met Emily, and very rarely after, always in secret, but never this. Not with Billy’s wide hands on his waist again, soothing him briefly, like a wild horse, before one dips between his legs, stroking up his cleft, slippery and greasy with vaseline to rub over his ass.

Dwight jumps at the first press in, just a fingertip, then all the way to a knuckle, then two.

One finger becomes two whole ones, and he’s glad to be face down on the shitty mattress, huffing out a breath.

He sounds and feels like he’s dying of two different ailments. Billy chuckles, almost knowingly.

“Never played with your backdoor here, Dwight? No better way to make a man scream and come to Jesus.” Billy sounds like he’s making a threat, and if he wasn’t also massaging and rubbing into something that made Dwight’s toes curl in delight and over stimulation from his cock grinding between his stomach and the bed, he’d be a little concerned.

The man plans to fuck him without looking into his eyes, his face. All he has to go on are his sounds.

Dwight cries out at the third finger, only from shock thankfully, no pain. His cock throbs wetly, smearing precum on the sheets and into his shirt, thank god it’s easily hidden under his jacket. He’ll wash it out in the sink before he leaves.

Billy’s getting to his feet now, from where he’d been perched on the bed beside Dwight, fingering him within an inch of his life. He withdraws his fingers rather quickly, obviously shoving his own pants down, until they sink to his ankles, and there’s a wet squelching sound. Dwight guesses Billy’s putting more vaseline on, over himself.

He considers himself lucky, getting to take the man’s cock, rather than having to worry about fucking _him_.

Emily has complained if he goes too hard, and Billy may have hid it well, but he choked a couple times while deepthroating Dwight. He passed it off as purposeful throat spasms, but Dwight isn’t stupid, he knows he’s a little _too_ gifted. He’s also not _here_ , the second Billy’s cock rubs over his loosened hole, then pushes down and in.

Dwight groans loudly, feeling open and obscene, and Billy just chuckles again, this time he sounds a little short of breath. “Good little boy aren’t you? So wet for me.”

Dwight feels like anything but little, even as he’s pinned beneath the lanky but strong body of the blond, he huffs out a lungful of air on a particularly hard thrust, but Billy isn’t jack hammering him like some kind of virgin, he’s taking his time, he knows what he’s doing. Dwight is almost forced into his next orgasm, with the help of Billy’s cock jabbing into that perfect spot inside him again and again. From what he’s been told, it is the equivalent to a woman’s g spot, just hidden away where no straight man would be foolish enough to go poking around.

Billy ignores his climax, fucking into him at the same pace and depth, unintentionally dragging it out until Dwight is shouting from hyper sensitivity, having to turn his head and muffle the noise into the back of his arm.

His thighs are starting to chafe from being fucked so hard into the shitty thread count of the motel sheets, and Billy’s making little grunting gasps that tell Dwight he’s thankfully getting close.

“Gonna come, gotta make sure everyone knows who you belong to.” Billy growls.

Dwight’s blood runs cold even while warmth blooms inside him from the blond, his hips coming to a halt, flush to his ass, cock pumping his release as he’s buried deep.

“What are you saying?” He manages to rasp out, mentally preparing for the worst.

Billy strokes a hand through his hair, gentle at first, before fisting a good chunk, yanking Dwight’s head to the side, so he’s made to look back, and see the blond looming over him, slowly pulling out, cock still hard, glistening menacingly in the lamplight. “I mean no one is gonna see you walk down the street and not know you’ve been _had,_ and had well, baby _.”_

Even now there’s a twinge in his thighs, an ache in his gut, unfamiliar muscles having been well used.

Billy lets him go, and backs off completely, going to the bathroom to use the toilet, not bothering to shut the door, giving Dwight an eyeful of his toned ass, a final reminder of his weakness, before he’s wiping himself down with a winking leer aimed at Dwight from in the sink mirror.

Dwight lays painfully still on the bed, feeling the disgusting wet sticky ooze of semen slipping down his legs.

It feels so _wrong_ to be wet and open like this now. Any hint of an afterglow is cold and dead.

Even his sweat feels different. How is he going to go home and face Emily? Will _she_ know too? Just by the look of him?

He staggers up to his feet and walks over to his pants, bending to retrieve them.

Billy is back already, and he smacks Dwight’s ass pointedly, almost knocking him over in shock.

Walking is strange, a squish and slip between his thighs that’s never been there before, no matter how much he sweats from a run or average workout.

“See you round, stranger.” Billy says, tipping his threadbare straw cowboy hat, with what Dwight wishes he could call a touch of fondness. They’re already splitting the cost of the room, cash for both.

This means Dwight can stay as long as he wants before slinking home.

He ends up stripping out of all his clothes upon locking the door and ensuring it is indeed secure, then taking a shower so hot his skin burns. The cheap fabric washcloth rubs him raw, and he craves it.

The pain is a distraction from the tears of shame slipping like ice down his cheeks, and the shitty soap and hard water ensures he’s _clean_ , properly. There will be no questions. Emily _trusts_ him. She loves him, more than he deserves.

If there are, he’ll deny.

Deny, _deny_ , **deny** **_._ **

 

* * *

 

That was four years ago to the day, and when the girl who walks in to the El Royale while already smoking gives her name at the register, saying she has a reservation, Dwight’s heart lurches, then drops to his toes. Emily.

She says her name is Emily.

The fine little hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he knows, with a growing sense of dread, **he’s** not far.

There is no such thing as coincidence.

He didn’t just get involved with the most dangerous man in a dozen counties, that man laid _claim_ to him. Emily smiles at him, despite the black eye her sunglasses are hiding, she’s beautiful.

No denying it. But that _is_ what Billy enjoys.

Taking beautiful things and bending them to the breaking point.

Dwight makes a mental note to keep more than an eye on her.

 

Twelve hours later, when all hell’s broken loose, he offers to protect her, to help.

“Just let me in.” He pleads, and she shouts back, to be heard over the pouring rain and the chaos inside the other part of the hotel. “I ain’t gonna do that.”

A crack of thunder, a bolt of jagged lightning. It’s as if God himself is condemning them.

Dwight turns his head and that’s when he sees the man. Blond hair plastered to his skin, shirt open and exposing that perfectly carved chest and stomach. Even now, Dwight’s traitorous heart gives a stutter.

It’s just like five years ago, when they first met. How foolish he’d been.

“Hey honey, I’m home!” Billy smiles enigmatically, holding his arms open wide, and Dwight dies a little inside.

Having a shotgun in his hands doesn’t make much difference, not when Billy approaches, and he still doesn’t take the shot. The blond man gets all the way to within a foot of him, and he yanks the gun out of Dwight’s hands.

“Hey baby. I missed you.” Those dangerous blue eyes are focused on him, and Dwight swallows thickly, tilting his head. “Did you really now?”

Billy runs a hand through his soaking hair, ruffling it a little, causing a shiver to run down Dwight’s spine.

“Yes. now, is that any way to greet your lover? Don’t be rude. It’s just us now.”

Dwight finds himself shuddering from Billy’s other hand, forcing him to drop the gun and then yanking him in for a kiss so rough it’s painful. It all hurts, as does everything at once, deep inside. “You cannot deny this. Us. me. Not anymore.”

For a long moment, the world stops, and then Dwight nods. Billy’s right. Of course. It’s over.

He can’t keep running, and he’s not going to win in trying to figure out what really happened to Emily.

“Good boy.” Billy says, and it’s a purr now, he’s content, he’s won.

Dwight inhales deeply and then leans in close, breathing out against the man’s heated skin, smelling like rainwater and mint. If he wants to live through the night, he’ll have to do it, take the deal with the devil.

So he relaxes into Billy’s grasp, and quits fighting it.

 

* * *

 

**~end**

 

**Author's Note:**

> ftr i'm sorry to both chris hemsworth and jon hamm


End file.
